The Wizard and Her
by tigzy
Summary: How would the wizard really feel once he found out about the death of the Wicked Witch?


**So this is yeat another short story I wrote. I had always wondered what the Wizard would feel once he left the confrontation scene from the musical. Reviews would be appreciated as per usual!   
****Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, or anything to do with the book or musical; Wicked. I'm not that smart to invent such things.****

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**The Wizard and Her  
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"This was Elphaba's" Glinda commented, holding out the mysterious green bottle,

"What's that you say?"

"It was a keepsake. It was her mother's. She told me so herself. I've only seen a little, green bottle like this one other time. It was right here, in this very room. You offered me a drink from it." The Wizard took the bottle, slowly, disbelievingly, pulling out the matching vial from his pocket. He held them both up to the light, and brought them down, cradling them in his hands. A look of despair came upon his face as it brought back memories from long ago.

"But... oh my Lord..." Feeling faint, he sat down on the cold and unforgiving floor leaning against his throne. A small tear escaped his eye, rolling down his cheek, only to drop onto one of the bottles.

"I want you to leave Oz. I'll make the pronouncement myself: that the strains of wizardship have been too much for you and you are taking an indefinite leave of absence... Did you hear what I said?!" She directed her gaze to the Wizard, jolting him out of his reverie.

"Yes, your goodness." He stood up and left the room, leaving Glinda alone with the Wizard head abandoned forlornly on the floor.

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The Wizard sat alone in his chamber having just come from the grand hall, where Glinda the good had demanded him to leave Oz. He felt mixed feelings towards leaving this place he had called home for so long. On the one hand he had lived here for a large majority of his life, being worshipped and celebrated. He had authority and dominance. On the other hand, everything about Oz, seamed to whisper Elphaba's name. He could hear it in the shuffle of his feet on the emerald green carpet, in the wind howling against the open windows, even in the creaking of the chair as he sat down.

As he gazed out the window across the landscape, he could see the green glow emanating from the city, like a cruel reminder of Elphaba's death. He still could not believe it… her father. He was the father of the so called Wicked Witch, but it wasn't any witch. No, it was the one he had sent a small innocent girl and her dog to murder. He had inadvertently killed his own daughter.

Drawing his attention away from the city, he drew the spiralled green bottle out of his pocket, holding it up to the light. How could he have not known she was his daughter? Her skin was the precise colour of the elixir he had kept for years. The same emerald green, reminiscent of the city living beyond the windowsill.

He had always wanted to be a father, to hold a little child in his arms, and call them his own. To play the parental role to someone other than a stranger for once. How he wished to watch the child grow and change, all the while creating a bond. For him to love them, and for them to love him back. Well now he had a child, but she was gone, never to return and worst of all she hated him. Memories of her last words to him came rushing back, bringing up a harsh bile in his throat…

"_I will fight you until the day I die!"_

This hurt him the most. He had no way of ever righting his wrongs. No way of apologising for what he had done. All he had left of Elphaba, his Elphaba, was this bottle of Green Elixir.

It seemed strange that he was proud of her, but she had grown up to be a powerful woman, standing up for what she believed in, never being put down, and never settling for second best. She was passionate, empowered, intelligent and wise beyond her years, and yet he would never see her again. So much sadness for a person he once wanted dead, so much love too.

Slowly, the wizard packed up his belonging, vowing never to return to this place. It was too much a reminder of his failings and his lost child.

Once he had finished removing all his items, he made his way out of the palace, through the winding corridors and large rooms, to the courtyard, where his hot-air balloon lay, deflated. He heaved all his belongings into the basket, and set the fire burning. Before he climbed into the basket and set off on his way back, he took one of bottles of Green Elixir and placed it in the centre of the vast courtyard, glinting in the rays of the setting sun.

As the wizard rose into the air, he couldn't help but stare after the Elixir as it got smaller and smaller, until it was nothing but I tiny pin-prick of green amongst the rest of the city below. It was when he could no longer see the speck of green; he uttered the fatal words any parent dreads…

"Good bye Elphaba, my daughter, rest in peace…"


End file.
